Chapter 5

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Garrett was still pondering what the Queen of Beggars had said. She was right; the Primal was not a power to be trifled with, and would need to be taken care of. Plus, trouble always seemed to follow the Graven. But that didn't mean that he should be the one to fix the City's problems. Besides, when had the City ever treated him with anything other than scorn and the threat of death?

The unmistakable muffled clunking of women's shoes brought Garrett out of his musing. It was odd for a woman to be out at such a late hour. The footsteps grew quicker as drunken hootings and chortles could be heard. Garrett kept to the shadows, but watched as the woman quickened her pace. It was dark and he could only see her back, but Garrett could tell that she was of the upper class. The rich fabric of her burgundy dress and the fine detailing on her matching hat boasted of aristocracy.

Garrett remained unseen even as the ensuing men passed within a foot of him. They appeared to be preoccupied with the woman practically running down the uneven path.

"There you are, pretty lady. Whatch'ou doin' on this side of town, huh?" One of the men called out to her.

"You lost? Let us 'elp you."

"Yeah, it's cold tonight. We can keep you nice an' warm..." They erupted in grating laughter as they started to run after and hoot at the girl, who had already started sprinting away from them.

Garrett's narrowed his eyes. He wondered, and not for the first time, which was more vile: the rats plaguing the City's sewers or the men plaguing the City's streets.

"Oh, she'll sure fetch us a pretty penny."

The woman gasped as she nearly ran into a stone wall. The road led to a dead end.

Garrett made to leave, eager after a long day to return to the safety of the clock tower, but something compelled him to move closer to the helpless woman. Perhaps it was her muffled screams as one of the men grabbed her and covered her mouth, or the grating laughs of the others as she kicked and struggled futilely against her captor. He didn't really know why he bothered nocking an arrow and letting it strike one of the men's skull, rendering him unconscious. Or why he shot another man before sneaking behind the last one and knocking him out with his Blackjack. But it was done, and the woman strangely did not cower from him or try to flee. On the contrary, she looked at him with recognition.

"You're the thief from the other night," she said, her eyes widened with shock.

He realized with a start that she was the girl from the Northington manor. She looked different in lavish clothing than she did in the plain nightdress he first saw her in. Her rather plain features did not suit the rich garb she wore, he noted. Not that he thought that anyone who flaunted their wealth was the least bit attractive.

Garrett took a step back, wary of her curious eyes studying his face. His instincts told him to run, to leave before she could know enough about him to become a problem or threat, but another part of him sensed that she was neither one of those.

"Wait!" she cried out when he moved. She rearranged her dress and stood up.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered, "I'm- "

"Isabella," he cut her off, "I know."

She winced slightly and lowered her gaze at the sharp tone of his voice. She quickly composed herself, though, and looked back at him.

"Will you tell me your name?" She asked softly, and took a tentative step closer to him.

Garrett stayed silent, hoping that she would pick up on his unwillingness to divulge information to someone he had just met, especially considering that he had a rather large bounty on his head. Then again, by the looks of her intricate jewelry, a golden diamond-studded necklace in particular, she had no use for such a reward.

"Well, please know at least that I am very thankful. Good people like you are- "

She gasped as he swiftly closed the gap between them, her back pressed against stone and his hands braced against the wall beside her head.

"I doubt you'd feel the same if you really knew who I am," he said as he looked into her dark brown eyes.

"I-I know enough about you to know that you wouldn't see an innocent person hurt," she replied, meeting his gaze with a surprising flash of courage and conviction he wouldn't have expected of a meek girl like her.

Garrett exhaled sharply, then straightened himself and promptly disappeared into the shadows before the girl could say another word.

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The streets were dead silent. The firelight illuminated the cobblestone paths, but the warm light did little to mask the somberness in the air. The flickering flames in the sconces danced like tortured souls desperately trying to escape their inevitable dark fates.

In the distance, Garrett heard the scuffling of nervous footsteps, followed by the rattling of a tin can. Curious, he followed the sound to a darkened alleyway branching out from the main square. He waited for a nearby guard to pass, then quietly slipped into the alley. He was able to see the backs of two men before they vanished around the corner. He was about to follow them when something on the wall caught his eye.

Written in bright red paint, a stark contrast to the otherwise dull environment, were the words: DOWN WITH THE BARON.

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